Toothpaste
by HarryfanciesHagrid
Summary: When the twins decide they want to discuss the Yule Ball with ickle Ronnikins, they never anticipated that jealousy might ensue. But upon hearing that a certain brightest-witch-of-her-age already has a date for the Ball, Forge can't just let her fall for a pumpkin head can he? (Sorry I suck at summaries & nah I don't own Harry Potter *cries*)
1. Chapter 1

**1**

As Fred and George bounce down the Great Hall in the dire hours of the morning, they blatantly struggle to fight a pair of massive identical grins from etching across their faces. Plopping down between ickle Ronnikins and his little Hermione, Fred slings an arm over the fourth year girl whose cloud of hazel hair seems to be even more chaotic this morning. "Mornin' all," George drawls from across the table where he's slid a tad too close to Harry, "how's our little dragon slayer fairing with a date to the Yule ball? I mean, clearly, Ronnie-boo is taking McGonagall but – "

" – we can't all tame a dragon now can we?" Fred finishes. The twins have been taunting their little brother and their little champion/money–maker since the incident with the note. "Shove off," Ron mumbles into his scrambled eggs, "It's hardly like it makesany difference to you!" Fred and George hum in eerie unison, making Harry visibly tense up. Smirking, Fred can't resist shuffling closer to the currently wordless witch, whose eyes are burning holes in the toast smothered in Nutella, so his thigh presses against hers. "Well, I don't know, I was wondering if you were taking Hermione, here. If not, I might have a go at asking her…" Fred trails off – beginning to draw circles on the young witch's' rigid shoulder. "Shut it Fred, you already have a date!" Ron growls territorially

"Nope, that was Fred, I'm George – the sexier, free agent twin who has a wayyy bigger –"

"I have a date, Fred." Hermione says flatly at last. Meeting the lanky red head's gaze where he'd been enjoying watching her squirm for the past few minutes, it's Fred's turn to stiffen, his mouth going dry and muscles locking together. "And who's the lucky fella, or fellady?" George grins jauntily, unfailing in covering where his twin's words seem to have deserted him. "And why would that be any of _your_ business, Weasley?" Hermione forces a sly smile that looked painfully like it belonged to Fred.

"She's not telling anyone," Ron grumbles as he moves on to ladling more food onto his already heaving plate, "If there is a someone…"

"Shush, Ronnikins, Hermie clearly has found love where you've found chicken, at 7 in the morning no less! So, let's see, it won't be a ginger because we're the only red headed men in all of Hogwarts and Ginny's happily got a date," George rambles, "I doubt it's the Beauxbaton lot because they're not quite your type – tad too preppy for you, me thinks – but that hardly thins down the possibilities; it's not like you're short on admirers, Hermione." Harry freezes where he was ogling Cho Chang and spins to stare down Hermione; Ron even stops chewing whilst George throws his twin a significant look. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not a whore!" Hermione cries out, aghast that George would insinuate such a thing. "No, no, no Hermione! George would never say anything like that – mainly because it's not true – he meant that a lot of… people… find you very attractive." Fred rushes, his ears flushing crimson beneath his shaggy copper hair. "… Oh… um, well, like… who?" Hermione blushes, trying in vain to smooth down her bushy hair. Regarding his twin smiling dreamily at their little brother's best friend, George cautiously starts listing names, "Ah, you know, Thomas, Finnegan, Longbottom's always had a soft spot for you… oh and Zabini constantly seems to have to be reminded no to stare at your arse." George smirks at the last one, recalling hurling a minor stinging hex at the Slytherin for perving up his future sister in-law. "Malfoy can't keep his eyes off you either – look." Harry blurts out; surreptitiously glancing at the Slytherin table the group found that indeed, the ferret has his eyes pinned on Hermione's chest. "Oi, Malfoy! You alright there?" Ron yells across the Great Hall only for Draco to shoot a dirty look at the blood traitors, mudblood and the boy-who-just-won't-die. "And don't even start on the Ravenclaws, they're all obsessed with you 'Mione."Ron sighs grudgingly. Smirking, Harry mock whispers "Don't even start on the Weasley's that like your arse either Hermione, we'll be here all week!" Giggling, Hermione finally starts munching on her toast whilst the boys (excluding Fred whose blank stare is drilling into the mahogany table) start talking rabidly about quidditch, the tournament and girls.

"No, you can't ask Lavender – can you imagine how clingy and _Lavender-ish_ she'd be?" Ron grimaces at the thought of the gossip Gryffindor girl. "Well, at least I can remember that Lavender's a girl!" Harry hisses pointedly at his best friend. Just as Hermione starts looking upset though, a shadow overcasts the four boys and girl at the table who are just finishing their breakfasts. " _Dobro utro_ , my little luck charm, how are you?" Viktor Krum's thick accent causes Hermione to slowly turn on the bench and smile brightly at the heavily set young man. "I'm very good, thankyou Viktor, how are you?" Fred doesn't miss the light blush creeping up her neck, nor the way that the guy's eyes seem to crawl over _his_ Hermione. Wishing he could be the one to make her blush like that, Fed's burnt umber eyes darken as he fights the urge to grab the young woman next to him and remind her that no one else could make her feel the way he does. Instead he bolts from the table, rushing out of the Great Hall to spend his Saturday avoiding the wild haired brunette.

Hermione had been timidly trying to talk her way out of spending her Saturday tutoring the Bulgarian bon-bon before her when the warmth of Fred's arm was stolen away from her as he abruptly got up and left the table. Catching George's guarded observation of her, Hermione feels like an insect being probed. "Viktor, I've got some errands to run, actually, but I'm sure Harry and Ron can help you, at least with quidditch anyway, I'm not sure they could handle higher arithmacy though," Hermione blabbers, "George, would you mind? I was wondering if you knew anything about the relation between… stuff." Hermione deadpans. Bouncing up, George yanks the smaller girl to her feet, "Miss Granger, I am an expert on stuff – especially their relations!" the red head yammers, leaving a fangirling Ron, dejected Viktor and befuddled Harry in their wake.

"What's wrong with Fred?"

"What? Nothing. Apart from the usual pressure to compete with me –"

"George, I'm serious – he started acting all… calm… when he found out I have a date."

Sighing, George shakes his head; they're standing on opposite sides of a corridor barely feet from the Great Hall. "First: you're not Sirius; he's Harry's convict Godfather. Second: Isn't it obvious? Hermione, you're the brightest witch of your age but you can't put two and two together – much like Harry and Ron it seems if they still haven't worked out who you're going to the ball with." Rolling her eyes, Hermione rubs the back of her neck, "He's got a date though – and it's hardly the case that she was his only option." Hermione shudders, recalling the throngs of girls in the bathrooms wondering if _everything_ about the Weasley twins was identical. "Well, I'm not saying anything because I respect that Fred needs to do things at his own pace, but the Ball's in two days, Hermione! Who do you really want to be dancing with at the end of the night?" With that the melodramatic teenager bursts a flume of bubbles from the tip of his wand into Hermione's eyes and dashed off to carry out some dastardly prank.

Before she goes on a hunt to find Fred, Hermione rushes up to her dorms, suddenly self-conscious of her lazy Saturday combo of comfy jogging bottoms and a stained hoody. In truth, Hermione's spent far too much time wondering about her best friend's big brother: Stared a tad too long at his long elegant fingers weaving intricately beautiful products for pranks, pondered how all those years of swinging heavy beater's bats had treated his slender body, what it would be like if she knotted her hands in those fiery locks. Settling on an oversized, beige knitted jumper over faded burgundy shorts. Thankfully, Hermione had shaved this morning in preparation for the Yule Ball so her creamy legs are silky smooth. Tying her hair back in a loose bun that just feels more confident, the young witch gives herself a once over in the mirror of the dormitories, although her plain face is bare and washed out in the ashen daylight that streams through the windows, Hermione smiles appreciatively at herself. If Fred can fancy her after she's run around the Burrow at Christmas in Ginny's pyjamas with smudged make up from the night before and toothpaste caked around her mouth, how bad can she look – really?

Meanwhile Fed glowers broodingly at the embers off the empty common room's fireplace, why does he care if Hermione's got a date for the Ball? It's hardly like he was going to ask her, he has a date for fucks' sake. Did he really want to ask Hermione? Yes, but he respected her too much to put her in that position. There are a few other positions he'd be more than happy to put her in – growling Fred shakes his head and starts storming to the boy's dorm. However a small hand darts out of the shadows and pulls him against a soft, curvy body. Lips lock with his passionately, tongue and teeth mash with his starstruck mouth. "What's wrong Georgie? Not quite what you want?" Angelina's voice tickles his collar bone whilst the hand that had caught him snakes down his boxers. "Wait – wait – Geo –"

"Fred?" Fred's gasping question is cut off by a shattered, oh-so-familiar voice. Fred's head whips round in horror to meet Hermione's chocolate brown eyes swimming in tear. She looks so little in that jumper that hangs off of her small frame and shorts that barely peek out from the hem of the jumper, threads of hair spilling from her messy bun. Why does she have to look so delectable now of all times? Shrieking in mortification, Angelina snatches her hand away, "Fred?!"

"Hermione –" With a smothered sob, his 'Mione races back up the stairs to the girl's dormitories. No he doesn't deserve her; she isn't his 'Mione. "Oh my Gods Fred! What the fuck were you thinking?! I thought you were George!" Angelina looks so tricked and horrified and torn. Sighing, Fred decides to save them both the embarrassment – mostly – "Yeah, Angie, don't worry about it. Not the first time it's happened and if you want I can set you up so George takes you to the ball instead of me, yeah?" The blushing chaser nods silently. At that moment, George bounds in followed by a hoard of tittering Gryffindors, taking in the sight of a beetroot Angelina and a bedraggled Fred with his fly gaping wide he nods shortly, "Mate, you know the deal on sharing – let everyone join in!" Fred grins roguishly, patting Angelina on the back and hugging George tightly to hide the tears that slide down his cheeks as he realises that he might have just lost Hermione. That's how George knew what had happened; Fed wasn't the hugger of the twins.

 **2**

"So just tell her the truth!" George urges his twin after Fred has sighed the third time since they brushed their teeth this morning. "Oh, great idea! Sorry 'Mione, that girl I was taking to the Yule Ball who tried to give me a hand job in the common room, yeah, she thought I was my twin brother – so we cool?" Fred grits out.

"It'd be better without the attitude," George murmurs lightly, "has it ever occurred to you, my brilliant clone, to tell Hermione that you're madly in love with her?"

"What? No. No thank you."

"Why not?" Angelina mumbles sleepily whilst slipping out of George's bed in just his quidditch jersey.

"For a start, she doesn't need that kind of pressure. Also, I don't deserve her. As well, how the hell did you get here?" smirking, Angelina shrugs and walks to the bathroom. The other boys they share the dorm with left earlier; the twins are late risers. "Late night flying," George shrugs to his twin's questioning look, "and by the way, Hermione's smart enough not to let _anyone_ pressure her." Sticking her head out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in her mouth, Angelina garbles something the boys don't understand. Rolling her eyes and heading back in the bathroom, they hear the ebony haired girl spit in the sink before she returns, "If you think you don't deserve her that's exactly why you do Freddy, Hermione's been crazy about you since lord knows when and even Ron's caught onto it." Grinning, George plants a kiss on the corner of Angelina's mouth where a spot of toothpaste still lingers. Watching his twin so happy reminded Fred of the first time he realised he fell for Hermione:

It was Christmas and she was running around the Burrow in pyjamas that Ginny had leant her. Spaghetti strap top was tight across Hermione's breasts because of the size difference in his sister and their friend and when she hugged herself in the bitter cold morning her cleavage looked tantalisingly inviting, with her hard nipples pressing against the thin teal cotton. However, that's not what got Fred's attention – it was the toothpaste caked around her mouth after Percy felt that she was violating the allotted time given in the bathroom. As she dashed downstairs, the creaking stairs splintering through the raucous house, Fred was the only one in the kitchen except Mrs Weasley. Seeing the teenage girl in his family home, in those tiny pyjamas, with her make up smudged, all Fred Weasley had wanted to do was kiss that toothpaste off her lips. And it's all he's wanted since.

"She's not come down." Harry states noncommittally as Fred dashes over to his little brother and his bestie. "Why not?" Fred demands, not bothering to play coy.

"Maybe she's fed up with Weasley's making her feel like she's not worth shit!" Ginny glowers at her brothers from along the bench. "Oi! You're a Weasley too Gin! And I didn't mean to get accosted in the common room because I look like my _identical_ twin! Also, I was going to fix all of this if she'd come out of that goddamned room!" Fred hadn't realised he was bellowing until half the Great Hall was silenced. "Were you now?" that oh-so-familiar voice, bold as brass drawls from behind Fred. Hip cocked to the side, tight fitting jeans hugging her figure, arms crossed over her crimson long sleeved shirt, Hermione meets Fred's gaze challengingly. "I'm sorry," his words are soft and chestnut eyes pleading but beneath the earnest hope is a fire, a blazing inferno. Brusquely, Hermione sits next to Ron without sparing Fred a second glance, "Why? You're my friend's brother who I walked in on with a girl. Yeah, embarrassing. But that's all." Ron squeezes Hermione's shoulder as Harry's hand reaches across the table to hold her own.

After seeing Fred with Angelina, Hermione had raced to her room and spent the day crying and watching rom coms on the iphone her parents had bought her, surprisingly Hogwarts has great wifi. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep and woke with a new rationale; Hermione worked on logic, so _logically_ seeing your best friend's brother with a girl you vaguely know would hardly be devastating. Sure, the young witch had tricked herself into thinking Fred felt something towards her however, that theory was now disproved. So Hermione now is moving on, holding onto her two best friends at the breakfast table with a tense Fred stood directly behind her.

Watching ickle Ronnikin's arm cautiously wrap around Hermione's shoulders drew a growl out of Fred because he always knew Ron had a bit of a crush on the brilliant witch whose static hair curtains her almond eyes. "You and I both know that's not all." Fred's voice is low and husky, making Hermione clench her teeth in effort not to blush. Whipping around and standing to face Fred, mere inches from one another but both refuse to back down. "Really? How is _that_ not all? What was it Fred? Do you think that you have some kind of dibs on me? No, you didn't mean for that to happen with Angelina and I shouldn't have even been upset. But you never even tried…"

"Tried what, 'Mione?" Fred's eyes are blazing, lips parted, voice hoarse from watching this woman looking up at him spill her heart in half-truths and denial. The way they're standing – Hermione's upturned head, Fred's downturned and bodies almost flush against each other – the entire hall was anticipating a kiss. Not what happened next.

Hermione raises a delicate hand to Fred's face; he himself seems to arch into the gentle caress until the bushy haired witch draws the hand back and _slaps_ the gangly red headed wizard. Stalking out of the Great Hall, Hermione doesn't look back at the slack jawed teachers and students or the teenage boy standing stock still in the middle of the Hall on the verge of tears. However, she catches the beginning of a solitary cackle, unbeknownst that Dumbledore will spend the next twenty minutes of breakfast in hysterics and is going to relive that moment in his pensive till the day he dies.

 **3**

"Thought we'd find you here," Ginny whispers, tenderly crouching next to Hermione where she's sat on a pouf. "Yeah, real struggle – look for the upset bookworm whose avoiding the Gryffindor common rooms." George grins fondly at the two witches he loves like sisters (yes, even Ginny). Summoning two more beanbags, George rubs Hermione's shoulder whilst she buries herself deeper into her book. Cautiously navigating around the towers of books Hermione's built around herself, George flops into the pouf on her left and Ginny does the same on her right. "Hermione, you do realise that the Ball's tomorrow don't you?" Nodding numbly, the girl glues her eyes to the page of her book. "Well, love, it seems I'm going with Peeves but what about you? I mean do you really want to spend your night with pumpkin head over there?" George nods his head in the general direction where Viktor Krum is surreptitiously peeking at Hermione between bookshelves. Chuckling, Hermione finally looks up at the Weasleys, "It's kind of disturbing that you two are so set on me fucking your brother." Hermione's language makes George's eyebrows shoot into his hair whereas Ginny smiles lightly at the effect Ron has had on the bright witch, "Nah, George is into it – probably because he thinks he can pretend to be Fred and get some action too – but I'm just here for you whilst Harry and my other twat of a brother try to fix Ron's dress robe malfunction and find a last minute date." This makes Hermione outright guffaw.

"Look, Viktor is – well, Ginny, you know – and he noticed me without having to hear I've got another date for some stupid dance, and he sees me as special – like I matter." Ginny nods understandingly but purses her lips whilst George openly grimaces, "Hold up," Ginny bites back a cackle at her big brother's sassy tone of voice, "you don't genuinely think Fred only noticed you because of the ball? I mean the pra–"

"No, I know but he only chose to make an effort bec –"

"Because he thought he was going to lose you after you walked in on him and Angelina – which really should have been me," George frowns bitterly at the last part, "I shouldn't have said anything to you yesterday morning, but I did and it got your hopes up. Yes, my dickhead twin has been madly _crushing_ on you for who-knows-how-long and he's done fuck all to do anything about that. But this isn't just a fling for Fred – this is a grow old together, teach grandbabies to be genius pranksters kind of thing for Freddie, whether he's ready to admit it or not. And this morning was the closest he's come to openly admitting how much he lo – cares about you and, believe me, he's come painfully close before." Hermione's bottom lip is trembling at how genuine George is being with Ginny listening and smiling softly. Knowing she shouldn't really ask but she can't resist, "How? I mean, what happened that time he tried to tell me?" Ginny grins devilishly and decides this is a story she should tell, "Well, the first time we _know_ of was new years'; he was dashing around the house all evening looking for you but no one knew where you'd got to, eventually he told George, Charlie and I that he wanted to kiss you at 12. So that's why we were all looking for you, by the time we found you it was 11:55 and you were asleep in the laundry room surrounded by books and buried in freshly cleaned linen with cake smudged on your face. Honestly, I wanted to wake you, but Fred's face went all soft and he looked so young and he said not to. So he –"

"Carried me to your room and tucked me in with my book," Hermione whispered, eyes glazed over, "I always thought that was Harry…"

"Yeah, well, the second time was worse. D'you remember when we _pranked_ you be making your hair so knotted you couldn't even tie it up?" George even grimaced with Hermione, "well, that was my great idea to style your hair into the word love…"

"Or what about that time he made a rose grow out of your goblet with a note and then it ended up being Harry's drink!" Ginny chortles.

"Or when he –"

Eventually the three spent the rest of the day with the Weasleys spouting all the times (and there were **a lot** ) Fred tried and failed to seduce the elusive Miss Granger with Hermione recognising and laughing at every single one. After lunch, Harry and Ron joined the small group sharing their own stories. By curfew, Hermione was bitterly happy and still so crazy about Fred Weasley, just as the five are preparing to leave George whispers to Hermione, "So, you gonna slap Freddy next time you see him or spank him?"

Smirking Hermione hugs a small stack of books to her chest, "Depends." The bushy haired girl murmurs and begins to saunter out of the library with her friends. Meanwhile, Madame Pince watches the library clear out and wonders why Fred Weasley had been hiding behind the book case all day whilst his twin brother and younger sister had been on the other side of that very bookcase laughing with Hermione Granger. Moreover, why is he watching his five closest friends and relatives walk away smiling so widely when he has a crimson handprint across his cheek?

 **4**

"Yule tide greetings!" Fred grins at Angelina, George and Katie, all of whom seem giddy about the ball, "I still don't know why it's on a _Monday_ of all days, but hey! No class and a party at the end!" George rolls his eyes, "I'm already regretting going you _that favour_ yesterday."

"What favour?" Angelina frowns, glancing down the table where only Harry and Ron were sat, George turns to his not-so-official girlfriend considering everyone thinks that it's Fred holding Angelina's hand. "Gin and I went to talk to Hermione yesterday," he starts, "and I let Fred come listen, you know, so he could… umm… know where he stood…"

"Georgie, are you meaning to say Freddie just wanted to be near his darling Hermione after she slapped him because he was scared she'd be upset and didn't want to push her away even further?" Katie coos across the table at the boys. Flushing a soft shade of scarlet, Fred becomes fascinated by his orange juice while George decides that he hasn't told Angelina how beautiful she is this morning. Smirking, the two chasers lock eyes and sigh, "Boys."

Hermione had been hustled out of the Great Hall by Ginny, Lavender and Parvati before the twins even woke up. Now she was missing lunch, pinned to a chair in the dorms with Lavender attacking her eyebrows, Parvati painting her nails and Ginny reading through the notes recommending different techniques to tame wild hair Mrs Weasley had sent the girls that morning. Hermione feels exposed enough in just a vest top and knickers without someone knocking incessantly at the door. "Come in!" Ginny hollers lazily, evidence of being raised in a big family. Swinging the door open brashly, Angelina Johnson leans against the stone carved doorway smiling bemusedly at the younger girls fussing over each other. "Anyone mind if I nab Hermione a sec?" this made Lavender and Parvati freeze and shoot daggers at Angelina, "We are preparing her to look perfect for when she goes to a _Ball_ with a _famous_ quidditch player!" Lavender's shrill voice is clipped and tenuous, punctuated by yanking another hair from Hermione's forehead. "Ow- okay, Lavender, Parvati thankyou – it really has helped but you two need to get ready too! Parvati, Harry likes pink and orange, you know how to transform the colours of clothes. Lavender, lay off of the bracelets tonight – Seamus won't want to lose an eye to a stray good luck charm Trelawney said will make you irresistible." With that, Hermione whirls away from the two gobsmacked girls to tug on a pair of old, potion smattered jeans and follows an impressed Angelina out the door.

"Look, before we go downstairs, you _do know_ that I thought that Fred was George the other night, right?"

"Yeah, 'course I do," Hermione shrugs awkwardly, "and, before we go down, please tell me this isn't Fred's last attempt to persuade me to ditch Viktor because it's too late; I've made a commitment and it'd be unfair on everyone if I changed my mind at the last minute." She blurts all this out in a single breath as if scared of Angelina's reaction. "Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you that, hun, you'll have to tell him that yourself." They descend in silence from there, not uncomfortable, just wordless. Until soft, sultry music drifts up the stairs, a tad too cliché for Hermione, but she can work with it. Upon entering the common room, Hermione is greeted with the sight of Viktor Krum in his usual dark uniform holding a bouquet of red roses in the centre of the room, petals litter the floor, the fire crackles warmly and a fleet of Durmstrang boys delicately playing the music on instruments one can only assume they borrowed off of Flitwick. Beaming a tad too wide than is appropriate, she lets Viktor sweep her into a warm embrace, holding the roses behind her back, "I couldn't wait to see you, my luck charm!" Gasping as he spins her around the room, Hermione fights tears; it's all so extravagant yet simple and romantic and vulnerable and perfect. But all she can think is how Fred would have had George singing bad karaoke in the background, he'd have picked out honking daffodils he'd nabbed from Sprout's greenhouse and made her dance ridiculously to George's increasingly bad singing and _her_ Fred would have called her _his_ 'Mione.

Then Viktor stiffens as the common room portrait swings open. Awkwardly looking over his broad shoulder, Hermione's greeted with a frowning George and a blur that is Fred whisking up the stairs to the boy's dorms. "I will see you Herminny." Viktor murmurs as he brushes his lips to the blushing girl's cheek. After he and his cronies leave, Hermione runs towards the boys' dorms only for George's hand on her forearm to stop her. "George, it's not how it looked, Angelina asked me to come down, so I thought it was Fred. And then Viktor was there and he was being all romantic, but all I could think about was Fred an –"

"Shh. Hermione, it's ok, Angie came to get me – Fred was meant to be here… to do a thing… and then she felt so guilty when pumpkin-pie was down here instead. Fred won't blame you; he just couldn't stand there and watch you in his arms could he?"

"What do you mean a thing? Why can't I go up here? Why are you ready so early?" Taking in his attire Hermione found George in ivory dress robes, unlike Ron's ghastly ones, they were tightly fitted in all the right places. "I can't tell you – give it a week and I'll let you know," George grins with a relaxing wink, "Go get ready, Hermione, your eyebrows look phenomenal." Meeting George's grin, Hermione starts to turn towards the girls dorms as George starts climbing the stairs. "Hold on, George!" Hermione catches him, "Is Fred in the same dress robes as you?" a shit eating grin inches across George's face as he drawls, "Why, Granger? Like what you see? Had to transfigure these from those _classic_ ones mummy sent, too bad Ronnikin's have a hex that stops any transfiguration." With that he prances up the stairs, humming to himself.

"You're in the clear; she didn't see your magenta robes." George sighs as he dances into the boys' dorms. Manically cackling, Lee Jordan claps slowly at his friend whose dress robes are, indeed, identical to Georges – only in a fuchsia that clashes agonizingly to the boy's ginger locks. "I thought Ginny said her dress was pink?" Fred scowls whilst transfiguring his robes white.

"Well apparently not, we just weren't listening." Georges sighs. Regarding their still laughing friend, the twins share a look, "they really would make a great colour – "

" – for the joke shop uniform!" Fred and George cry out triumphantly. However, the aftermath of their small success just seems to leave Fred brooding over Viktor Krum and a certain brightest-witch-of-her-age. "Forge, she was confused," George says warily, "she told me that she couldn't stop thinking of you, you saw her! The woman was on the verge of tears!"

"What's Ange wearing?"

"Purple – well – she said plum." Fred thinks for a minute.

" **GINNY!"**

 **5**

Appraising herself in the bathroom mirror, Hermione smiles proudly and lets a girlish giggle creep out of her mouth, she's late, she knows, but the not-so-bushy haired teen witch wants to savour this moment for all it's worth. She's beautiful and this is her night. Finally hauling her sparkling doe eyes away from the mirror, Hermione emerges from the bathroom. "You look… stunning." Ginny grins, seeing how happy Hermione looks. Earlier, she'd been summoned by a bellowing brother for some mysterious errand in the boys' dormitories, now she's the only girl in the dorm. "Right, Hermione, you look amazing. The boys have already left and Neville's downstairs too nervous and gentlemanly to come up. Let's go." As the laughing girls tumble down the stairwell, Neville looks appreciatively over them both and smiles shyly, "You both look r-r-really pretty." Blushing madly, the teenage goofball ducks his head "Thank you, Nev, you look very handsome yourself." Ginny beams and playfully punches her date. Ambling out of the corridor to the Great Hall, the three friends absently discuss whether there'll be food until Neville starts explaining the properties of a magical mistletoe over regular, "Remember last year when you got stuck under it Hermione? That same year you stayed at the Burrow for Christmas."

"Yeah I remember," Hermione grimaces but feels her face heating up, "and you just left me Ginevra!" Chuckling, Ginny shrugs in admittance, then a mischievous glint that could compete with Fred and Georges' shimmers in her eyes, "Who _did_ get you out of that bind, hmm?"

"Oh look at that, we're almost there and I forgot my lip gloss! Neville, be a dear and take Ginny on ahead." Grinning sheepishly, Neville guides a playfully scowling Ginny ahead, leaving Hermione to sag against a wall and smile shyly at a portrait of a nude woman, "You look gorgeous, darling, and stop looking so nervous! Walk into that Hall, hold your head high and… rock it!" The painting grins at the phrase she picked up off of a first year not so long ago. A beaming Hermione thanks the woman and begins wordlessly moving in the direction of the music, the rowdier portraits cat-calling as she passes making her grin shyly and stride confidently towards the heavy oak doorway. Standing at the top of the stone stairs, Hermione breathes in deeply and catches more than a few students gawking at her. Meeting Harry's slack-jawed gaze, she fights the urge to wave and begins to descend the stairs – focussing on not falling – she locks eyes with Viktor's and struggles not to look for Fred. However, as she links arms with the Bulgarian and they turn towards the illustriously decorated room, Hermione gives Harry an over-excited look.

"Where is she?" Fred's pacing behind a pillar near the steps but out of plain sight, hoping to be the one to meet Hermione before her Bulgarian bon-bon, who seems far too fascinated with the open bar. Comfortingly wrapping an arm around Angelina's waist, George rolls his eyes at his agitated twin, "She'll be down in a sec, look, Gin's here." Indeed, their little sister was tottering over in a haze of dusty pink and sea green that reminds the boys that their mother buys horrible dress robes for _all_ genders. Trailing behind her is a smartly dressed Neville, since first year the lump of a boy had been terrified of the twins for no obvious reason. "She's on her way, she looks great, Angelina – I did advise white dress robes but they insisted on… this." She waves her hands at George's magnolia robes and Fred's coral dress up. "'Salright Gin, I'll have him out of it soon enough!" Fred guffaws as Ginny seems caught between laughing and vomiting whilst George grins goofily at the girl on his arm. Abruptly, any mirth washed from the two couples facing Fred – and thereby the staircase – as their jaws all seem to drop to the floor except Ginny who smiles triumphantly. Frowning, Fred twists around to see Hermione, beautiful, phenomenal Hermione who he'd always seen but now her hair was put up all fancy, her periwinkle dress is, admittedly, beautiful but it's her that makes the dress so. Exuding a modest confidence, cocoa eyes glimmering as she takes step by step towards him, she looks so much more confident – ethereal almost and she was smiling. That easy, sweet smile that is reminiscent of that time when she was in pyjamas, lips caked in toothpaste, and he'd handed her a mug of tea just how she liked it, warning her not to get toothpaste in it. But this time, it wasn't Fred's hands brushing Hermione's over a mug, it was Viktor Krum's hand meeting hers, kissing it and leading her away. "-ed! Freddy!" Pinching him, George shrugs at his brother's glower, "What was that? Why didn't you do it Fred?" slumping his shoulders, Fred Weasley is finally speechless.

The initial dances had been spectacular, especially the excitable whispers that Hermione's attire sent throughout the crowd. But watching Hermione twirl about on that twat's arm was torture for Fred, even when George had playfully tugged him out onto the dance floor to salaciously waltz as twins, making Hermione and the entire school laugh. Sadly, the Patil twins wouldn't do the same. Eventually, sometime within the Weird Sister's first song, Fred either drunk enough spiked (courtesy of the twins) pumpkin juice or brightened up enough to go rave with the mass of hot, sweating bodies. Shucking his coral overcoat, Fred starts dancing a tad too close to Hermione than is necessary. Her chest is glazed in a sheen of sweat as she bounds in time to the music, breasts heaving at the movement. Biting her lip, Hermione spins to Fred and presses her body against his, soft tits pushing into his solid chest, nipples hard. Precipitously, it occurs to Fred that that dress wouldn't be suitable for a bra, and if he only slid his hand up, just a thin layer of silk would be between his calloused thumb and Hermione's hard, rosy nipple. And that's how Fred loses control and makes it his endeavour to have Hermione Granger as his tonight.

Sweltering in the heat, her beautiful gown restraining her movements, Hermione has had a breath taking night with Viktor; he's been proper, kind, considerate and an excellent dance partner, however she can't shake the need to be near Fred Weasley. Now, with the pounding of loud wizarding music numbing her nerves, the intense atmosphere of the party-crazed teens and the tall redhead grinding up against her hip, Hermione can't resist leaving Viktor to dance with his friends and turns to meet Fred's burnt umber eyes. Smirking at his smug look, Hermione presses her body flush against his thin dress shirt and seamlessly runs her fingers up his chest, appreciating the toned muscles rippling as he moves. Stifling a moan as she digs her nails in at his nipples, Fred decides that two can play at this game; his large hands dwarf her waist as he presses her against him and grinds his clothed, hard cock against the floaty material of Hermione's dress. Gasping, the bookworm wraps her arms around Fred's neck, only to surreptitiously slide a leg between Fred's and starting to grate against him faster, resulting in a groan in her ear that makes Hermione need to press against Fred's cock to find some kind of relief. Nibbling on her neck, Fred makes Hermione moan as he slides his hand up her side to massage her left breast, teasingly pinching her nipple pushes Hermione to slide a dainty hand between their bodies to palm Fred's long, rigid – "Herminny? Do you mind my friend? Would you like a drink?" Viktor's oblivious, sweet smile made Hermione awash with guilt and embarrassment. No, she wasn't in a relationship with the seeker, but she was his date. However, Hermione still felt unfathomably elated yet unsatisfied. "Yes, of course Viktor, I'm parched," she can't help it, she fixes Fred with the most sensuous look that a young, inexperienced witch can and saunters after her date, swaying her hips a little more than necessary.

 **6**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N - Yeah sorry it's taken ages for me to update but I kind of hope this makes up for it! I'm thinking this is the end of this story sooo…**

Fred stares after Hermione - the petite witch devilishly accepting the arm offered to her by the Bulgarian bon-bon before being led away whilst the blush Fred had caused fades from her cheeks – and has to fight the urge to haul her away from her "date". Without realising it, the lanky Weasley twin had been stood stock still in the middle of the dance floor as the Weird Sisters continued to rile the crowd of teenagers. "Oi, Frederick! You're killing the whole mood! Move your arse or get dancing!" Lee's grinning face calls Fred back to reality and he mumbles something about using the bogs. Fighting his way through the wildly dancing throng of witches and wizards, the red head dashes to the bathrooms, still half hard with thoughts of Hermione Granger racing through his mind.

Meanwhile Hermione had been gushing to Harry and Ron about the magical night she was having – missing out any details about Fred – and hadn't realised the dark look blooming on Ron's ashen face. Unbeknownst to anyone else, the youngest Weasley had seen Hermione's escapades with his older brother and jealousy was slamming Ron like a bus. Mind fogged by a thick cloud of envy, the ridiculously gowned wizard had burst out at his beautiful best friend, resulting in her crashing onto the carved stone steps of the Great hall. Letting her sobs wrack her small frame, Hermione let all the pain from Ron's harsh words and her feelings towards Fred and the difficulty of her and Viktor's "relationship" wash over her.

Eventually Fred leaves the bathroom and immediately scours the gradually emptying ballroom for the love of his life. Upon not finding her, Fred's stomach drops to his toes – fearing that she and Krum had left… together. But looking befuddled and hurt by the punch bowl, Viktor Krum is stood with two flutes of pumpkin juice and no Hermione. Breezily striding toward the seeker, Fred assumes the role of a curious friend of the witch Krum was meant to be taking care of as he hides the mounting anxiety behind a cool face, "Hello there Viktor, where's your date gotten up to?" Gritting his teeth, Fred fights the urge to shake the Bulgarian so he replies faster, "I don't know. She was talking to Potter and Wesley… Weasel… Wheezy?"

"Weasley, Krum, Weasley." Fred growls before spinning on his heel and practically sprinint out of the hall, meaning to go to the boy's dormitory and use the marauders' map. It wasn't needed though; on the steps leading to the Great Hall, among the clusters of weeping teenage girls, is a princess – sobbing by herself. "Hey, you." Fred smiles softly, even with makeup streaming down her face and her hair in disarray she's so beautiful – she could be beautiful to Fred Weasley in pyjamas with toothpaste smudged around her mouth. Thoughtlessly, Fred slides onto the step beside her and coils and arm around her still shaking shoulders. Only now Hermione feels warmth around her shoulders she realises that Fred is beside her, eyebrows knitted together in concern, lips softly smiling. Caving into the lanky teen's imploring gaze, the young witch bawls into his chest as Fred rubs soothing circles on her back whilst making gentle promises that she never hears.

The Great Hall is almost empty aside from the final stragglers, Viktor had seen Hermione and Fred as he left the Great Hall over a quarter of an hour ago and had straight away seen the bond the two shared and chose not to bother them. Now Hermione rests her head on Fred's broad shoulder, swaying slightly to the whimsical music whereas Fred is tense with the thoughts about his next move – really all the Weasley twin wants to do is race upstairs and beat the living daylights out of his little brother for making Hermione cry – but he can't leave the witch alone, not tonight. Tonight had been Hermione's night to shine: her night to prove everyone just how stunning this bookworm could be and Ron had ruined it, Fred knew that. He also knew that he'd had a big role to play in Hermione being so upset; he should have let her have her fairy tale night with a famous foreign seeker as her date to the ball where she danced with _him_ all night. Instead Fred had been so selfish and he couldn't forgive himself. Abruptly, the red head bounces to his feet – startling Hermione, "Fred, what are you doing?" her blotchy face marred by shock and nerves, thinking she'd done something wrong – again. Grinning his most devil-may-care grin, Fred weasley offered his hand, bowing a little, "May I have this dance, Hermione Jean Weasley?" at this Hermione cackles but doesn't take his hand.

"I'm not a Weasley, Fred!"

"Not yet." He barely whispers it but it floats over the din of slow music and brushes over the young girl's ears like a gentle caress. Meeting each other's eyes, the pair feel a warm electric buzz humming between them as chocolate melts over hazel, "In that case, I'd love to dance, Frederick Gideon Granger." Slipping her hand into his Hermione lets Fred lead her to the centre of the dance floor, oblivious of the other couples as she gazes adoringly at Fred. Tenderly placing his right hand on her waist and sliding his left hand into hers whilst the petite girl rests her tiny hand on his shoulder, the pair waltz around the dance floor, just like McGonagall taught them, and completely out of time with the music.

…..

"FRED!" Ron screeches through the hard oak door of the fifth years' dormitories whilst hammering persistently with his fist, at his elbow a sleepy Harry flinches at the noise and being dragged out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Swinging the door open, a sleep laden George glowers murderously at his younger brother, "What do you want Ronnikins? Spit it out before I curse you into next week for waking me at this ungodly hour." Bluntly pushing past his brother, Ron pulls back the curtains of Fred's four poster bed and huffs disgustedly at the empty sheets, "Where is he?" Ron spits out venomously. Frowning at Ron, George and Harry simultaneously ask, "why?" But Ron only launches himself at George. "I saw him last night with Hermione and I know you did too! She didn't come back to the dorms last night and I want to know what he's done with her!" Wild blue eyes burn into the startled twin – pinned to the floor and too shocked to retaliate – whilst Harry pries Ron off of his brother, "You… saw that?" George had indeed seen Fred and Hermione dancing together – pre-Ron's jealousy fit – but had merely smirked and left the couple to it, assuming no one would notice in the wild crowd. As the Weasley brothers seem to have a stare down, Harry's big brother instincts towards Hermione kick in and shake him out of his fatigue, "wait, what do you mean _dancing_ with Hermione? And where are they both?" Harry was more distressed than angry, concerned about his best friend's safety and wellbeing than whether Fred and Hermione's virginities were still intact. " _Exactly!_ Exactly, Harry! Where are they now? What were they doing last night? Why didn't Lavender Brown see her come back to her dorm last night?"

"I think that's my business, Ronald."

Stood in the door way of the boys' dorm's shared bathroom, Hermione Granger stood in only an oversized quidditch jersey with Weasley emblazoned on the back, a tooth brush in her hand and the remnants of toothpaste smudged around her mouth. Jaws hanging loose, all of the pyjama clothed boys gawk at the normally modest girl's attire and the smirk that accompanies it. Well, all except Fred who saunters into the dorm from the bathroom after her, "And my business," Grinning wolfishly, Fred kisses the corner of Hermione's mouth where toothpaste is caked, "hmmm… Spearmint…"


End file.
